


don't stir it up, i'm sure it's nothing

by arzoensis



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 12:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19109968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arzoensis/pseuds/arzoensis
Summary: Pekka's not surprised that his dad likes Juuse. He's just not really expecting the level of liking to be "son-in-law" status.





	don't stir it up, i'm sure it's nothing

**Author's Note:**

> it's fake dating baybie .. is it rushed i don't know
> 
> Title is from Carly Rae Jepsen's "Happy Not Knowing."

Pekka always looks forward to the dad trip. Jukka’s retired, and now that he’s gotten older, trips anywhere—especially abroad—are difficult for him to manage. But he flies into Nashville every year without fail, and Pekka loves watching him have a good time with the other dads, going out to all the distillery tours and stuff. Pekka isn’t actually sure what they do. He just knows they get tipsy.

They’ve just finished practice with the dads watching from the stands. Juuse jogs forward to catch up with Pekka outside of the rink, with their dads not far behind.

“You and Mikka coming over?” Pekka asks.

“They’re staying over at my place, so I’m gonna take them there first and see where it goes,” Juuse says with a shrug. “I think they wanna go out for dinner.”

They part ways at Juuse’s car, and Pekka waits for his dad to catch up.

“I just met Juuse’s dad in the locker room,” Jukka says, while Pekka holds the door open for him. “His name is also Pekka. Isn’t that funny?”

“Juuse jokes about it all the time,” Pekka replies, smiling.

He gets in the car, waves at Juuse when he stops as they pull out of the parking space.

Jukka leans over in his seat, glancing into the side mirror. “Is Juuse coming with us?”

“He’s taking his dad and the Salomakis to his house,” Pekka says, turning out of the lot.

“He has his own place? I thought he lived with you.”

“He got his own house, dad,” Pekka explains. He swears he’s talked about this before. Maybe with his mom? “It’s about fifteen minutes away.”

“Why would he move out? There’s your house, isn’t there?”

“Well, yes. But he wanted his own space, you know?” Pekka waves his hand. “Somewhere he can be alone, if he wants. We spend a lot of time together.”

“I won’t understand your generation,” Jukka says, shaking his head. “Living apart. Makes no sense to me. Don’t you know that your mom and I moved in together a few months after we met? That’s how we knew we were it for each other. You live with someone, you begin to understand that.”

Pekka shrugs. He’s a little confused as to why Jukka brought up his mom, but he assumes there’s some sort of lesson there. “I’m not going to make decisions for him, dad.”

Jukka hums, not entirely in agreement. The radio plays quietly for a while.

“He’s a good guy,” Jukka says, finally. There’s a pause. “A little young.”

“Well, it’ll be nice to see him grow,” Pekka replies. “And he’s very mature for his age.”

“I like him very much,” Jukka says, slowly. “I can see why you like him too. He’s good for you. You can learn a lot from each other.”

“He’s been there for me when I’ve needed someone,” Pekka says, smiling. “It’s hard to get that, sometimes. I appreciate that about him.”

“He’s very handsome, also.”

Pekka blinks. “Um, yes. He’s—he certainly is.”

“I suppose if you were going to date a man, Juuse is not the worst person you could choose,” Jukka says, a little thoughtful, and Pekka nearly chokes on air.

“Sorry?” he asks, weak. He feels like he’s been neatly placed into a garbage bag, helplessly watching while the opening gets cinched closed.

“You _are_ dating, yes? You didn’t think you could keep this from me for so long, did you?” Jukka tsks. “And I’m sure you haven’t told your mother yet, either.”

“We—”

“I do hope you invite him for dinner,” Jukka says, plowing right over Pekka’s planned sentences, which are—in order— _we aren’t dating_ , _why do you think we’re dating?_ , and _dad, what the fuck?_ “I didn’t get to talk to him much, but I find him very charming.”

Pekka is still trapped in the garbage bag. This is his explanation for why he just hums, not quite in agreement, but his dad certainly seems to believe it is.

Uh-oh.

 

 

Jukka mentions he’s still feeling jetlagged, so he wanders off to take a nap before dinner. Which means Pekka is flopped face-first in the couch and wondering what the fuck is happening. Like, why does his dad think Juuse is his boyfriend? And why did he never think to bring it up before this car ride?

Like, sure. Juuse lived with him for a while, but that’s because he was a rookie and _someone_ had to drive him around. And they did spend a lot of time together, but that seems fair considered they occupied the same house and were both goalies and no one wanted to deal with their “secret language.” And fine, maybe sometimes Juuse looks at him with that troublesome gaze that makes Pekka’s face warm and his voice thready. And whatever, everyone has sex dreams about people they spend a lot of time with.

Okay. Okay, so. Actually, laying it all out on the table like that—Pekka is beginning to have very powerful thoughts about his world which has, unkindly, decided to flip upside down. And also this couch isn’t long enough for him to stretch his legs out. Fuck.

For about fifteen minutes, Pekka pulls himself from the cliff’s edge of screaming into a cushion. And then he gets his phone and calls Juuse.

“Pekka,” Juuse says. “What’s with the phone call? Are you dying?”

“Ha, funny,” Pekka replies. His voice is so weak. He sounds like a man drowning on land. “So—uh, my dad wants you to come over for dinner.”

“My dad’s going out with Miikka and his dad, so I’m free.” Pekka can practically hear his eyeroll, and somehow _that_ of all things manages to calm him down somewhat. “I can’t believe I’ve been replaced by Miikka.”

“In fairness,” Pekka says while he drags his body to the kitchen, “your dad knows you. Miikka’s probably more interesting at this point.”

“You’re on Miikka’s side? I thought I’d get some help from you,” Juuse complains. Pekka can hear laughing on the other end, and Juuse groans. “They’re having a wonderful time together at the fire pit. I’m pretty sure if I left they wouldn’t notice, so I can be there in half an hour. Does your dad like… wine?”

“I don’t think he’d be opposed.” Pekka’s been staring into his fridge for too long. It beeps forlornly at him. “I think you need to rescue me.”

Juuse laughs, quiet and warm and so patient, and that helps too. “Okay, okay. Dramatic. Twenty minutes. See you soon!”

Pekka takes a deep breath once Juuse hangs up. His sunglasses-adorned face stares up cheerfully from the phone screen. Pekka counts to three and pulls the tri-tip out from the fridge.

 

 

Pekka was going to tell Juuse when he came over. He wasn’t going to let Juuse get tackled by it, the whole _my dad thinks we’re dating and I thought I didn’t know how he could have that idea, but then I panicked about it for ten minutes and I’m beginning to realize that maybe I shouldn’t look at you as much as I do_ nightmare that he currently finds himself at the center of.

But then Juuse shows up right as Pekka’s putting the vegetables in the pan and the timer’s going off for the meat and in the rush to have Juuse take over so he can check the grill, it goes right out the window until Jukka shows up in the kitchen, and Pekka remembers he didn’t say anything at all. Shit.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Juuse says, so warm and friendly and exactly the wrong tone for him to have. Pekka is thinking vaguely about setting his kitchen on fire.

“Smells wonderful,” Jukka replies, smiling. “Did you help? Pekka’s been telling me about his sous chef.”

“When the head chef’s as good as he is, my job is much easier,” Juuse says, laughing as he pops the cork on the wine he brought.

The label makes it look extraordinarily expensive. Way too expensive for a casual dinner. That’s an _I’m convincing my boyfriend’s dad that I’m an excellent partner_ wine if Pekka’s ever seen one. He’s going to have a heart attack thinking about the implications of this fucking bottle of wine, but at least that means he won’t have to deal with the rest of tonight. Small victories.

When they sit down to dinner, it’s not exactly an interrogation—Jukka is a little more sophisticated than that—but Juuse’s been hooked up to the lie detector test that is a father’s judgment, and Pekka is sweating through his button up.

And, of course, Juuse passes with flying goddamn colors. Because Jukka’s complimenting the wine and laughing at Juuse’s little stories about living with Pekka. He asks Juuse about growing up in Hämeenlinna and complains good-naturedly about HPK. They might be making actual plans to go fishing together in Oulu. Pekka wonders if he’s going to get replaced as the favorite son.

Dinner goes… really well, in that case.

“I put the dessert and the drinks out by the pool,” Juuse calls, coming back into the kitchen. He takes the plate out of Jukka’s hand before he can stand. “Please, let me get this.”

“Why don’t you sit outside, dad?” Pekka suggests, putting the pans in the dishwasher. “It’s such a nice evening out. Juuse can help me clean up.”

“I get it, I get it,” Jukka says, hefting himself out of his seat. “Get the old man out of the room so you can stop gazing at each other and start kissing and such.”

Pekka forces out a laugh. Juuse has gone ominously still. If his hand goes any whiter where it’s grasping the plate, it _will_ shatter.

“Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,” Jukka says, and he winks at them before heading out to the patio.

Juuse has the infinite patience to wait until the sliding door is closed before Pekka begins to sense the collection of a very bad, very extremely bad energy forming exactly where Juuse is standing. The plate gets set down on the counter very carefully.

“So,” Pekka starts.

“Hey, Pekka,” Juuse says slowly, turning his head like a porcelain doll whose head should _not_ be turning. “What the fuck?”

“My dad thinks we’re dating,” Pekka says, a little helpless. Better to rip off the bandaid, right?

Juuse laughs, brief and humorless and extremely terrifying. This is why you don’t fuck around with short people. “And you didn’t tell him we weren’t?”

“In my defense,” Pekka says bravely, “my dad didn’t let me respond to him.”

“You need to tell him we’re not dating,” Juuse says, and if he sounds a little desperate Pekka chalks that up to the whole _we’re not actually dating, and now I have to tell an old man that his idiot, adult son couldn’t get a word in edgewise to explain that_ situation he’s found himself in. “Like, right now.”

“What if we, uh. Didn’t do that.” Pekka clears his throat. “And instead we… pretended?”

Juuse blinks at him.

“That we’re dating,” Pekka clarifies.

“I got that.” Juuse pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Can you give me one good reason why that’ll be helpful?”

“Well, for one, my dad hasn’t talked to me once about how I need to settle down and stop being sad and lonely,” Pekka jokes, but it falls a little flat. Too much truth in there.

Juuse takes a deep, deep breath. Pekka thinks he might be counting to five. That seems fair.

“I should not be doing this,” Juuse mutters. He clears his throat, looks up at Pekka. “Fine. If it really matters to you that much, we can pretend we’re dating while your dad’s here. And in a week or two, you’re going to tell him we broke up. Amicably. But still. Okay?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Pekka says. He’d cross his heart, but Juuse would not find that believable in the slightest.

Juuse nods, more to himself than anything else. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

It really is a nice night out, warm enough to enjoy the weather but with a breeze to whisk the bugs away. Juuse has artfully arranged dessert on the patio table with what’s left of the wine. He probably took a picture of it for Instagram. Jukka smiles when Juuse takes a seat next to him.

“Now, Juuse, why on earth did you get your own place?” Jukka asks, and Pekka sighs internally before reaching for one of the absolutely enormous strawberries.

“It was helpful today,” Juuse says, laughing. “Miikka and his dad have a place to stay now.”

Jukka tsks. “That doesn’t make any sense, you know. Living together is wonderful. I was just telling Pekka this morning…”

Juuse reaches over and holds Pekka’s hand while Jukka talks, rubbing his thumb over sharp, bony knuckles. Pekka’s never really noticed Juuse’s hands before, though they certainly talk around them a lot. Discussing gloves and blockers and which fingers take a beating from blocked shots. His hands are warm and smooth, the palm square and fingers stubby compared to Pekka’s. Not a hint of callus anywhere, which Pekka is a little jealous of. Maybe he should moisturize more.

Pekka gives Juuse’s hand a squeeze, just because he can. He thinks he wouldn’t mind holding Juuse’s hand more. It’s nice. He wonders if he’s inspecting Juuse’s hands too closely. Is that weird? Or maybe that’s something people who’re infatuated with their boyfriend would do. It’s probably the latter.

It’s obvious that Juuse’s good with parents—with that face, how couldn’t he be?—but they’re ten minutes into their second conversation ever, and Jukka’s already telling him all about his childhood.

“Now, I wasn’t a _bad_ kid,” Jukka’s saying. “I was just very stubborn. Me and Pekka were alike in that way.”

“He’s still stubborn, you know,” Juuse complains. “He’ll insist the way he does something is how you should do it, when there are definitely easier ways.”

Pekka groans.

Thankfully, they decide to move on to a different subject, one that doesn’t require nearly as much roasting. But at least now he knows how Juuse feels about the way he folds laundry.

It’s a lot easier to act like he’s been dating Juuse this whole time than he thought. As it turns out, living together for a year gives you a lot of little domestic stories, like how bad Juuse was about putting his clothes away until Pekka cleared out some closet space for him to take over. Or Juuse admitting that Pekka’s take on Eggs Benedict is better than what he can get in a restaurant.

They stay out on the patio long after dessert is gone, with Pekka pouring the last dregs of wine into his own glass. Jukka’s asking about Juuse’s dad, though Pekka’s pretty sure they’re already best friends.

Jukka yawns behind his hand, stretches his arms over his head. “I’m about ready to go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, Summer’s gonna go crazy if I don’t walk her before bedtime,” Juuse says, standing. “I should head back to mine.”

Pekka shoos his dad away from the dishes, gathers them up in one neat pile as they head back indoors.

“Well, I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow then,” Jukka says, and he hugs Juuse. “Drive safely.”

Pekka drops off the dishes in the kitchen, walks Juuse to the foyer.

“Are you good to drive?” Pekka asks. “It’s really no big deal if you wanna crash here tonight.”

“I had, like, half a glass of wine,” Juuse says, stepping into his shoes. “I’m good.”

“Thanks for entertaining my dad,” Pekka says. “You really knocked being my boyfriend out of the park. You convinced me, and I think he’s very happy with his future son-in-law.”

Pekka is expecting perhaps a smile. He is absolutely taken aback by the way Juuse very calmly turns to face the wall and knocks his forehead into the surface. “Can you just—can you not.”

“Uh.”

“Why do you say stuff like that?” Juuse asks, his voice tiny. His forehead thumps against the wall again.

“Hold up,” Pekka says. “Just hold on.”

“You’re having a wonderful time acting like I’m the best boyfriend in the world, and now I get to go home and remember it isn’t really like that.” Juuse pulls away from the wall, and when he turns to look at Pekka’s there’s nothing there but misery. He might actually turn into a puddle, right there on Pekka’s hardwood floors. “You know my dad _winked_ at me when I told him I was heading over to his place? Like, how am I supposed to deal with that too?”

“I need you to stop. Being the person you’re pretending to be when your dad isn’t here to see you,” Juuse finishes. “For my sanity.”

“But I want to do that.”

Juuse blinks at him. “That’s kind of a dick thing to say—”

“No, I mean. I want to do it for real.” Pekka takes a step closer. “This isn’t me acting. This is just me without a filter.”

“Listen, you don’t need to make me feel better or anything,” Juuse says, moving towards the door. “I get it, you know? It’s not like that between us.”

“It kind of is, though.” When Juuse stares at him, Pekka scratches awkwardly at the back of his head and takes a deep breath. “Uh, after my dad kind of—sprung that on me. I thought about it for a while? And, you know. I think I’d be okay with it if we were dating.”

Juuse raises his eyebrows. “Just okay?”

“You know what I mean,” Pekka says, throwing his hands up in the air. Juuse doesn’t look quite so miserable, at least. “Knowing a little of what it’d be like if we were together… it makes me want more. To know what it’s like to have it for real.”

“You are so bad at declarations of love,” Juuse says with a sigh. Pekka makes a strangled noise. “But. Yeah. I wanna know what it’s like too.”

“Well, we’re both agreeing to it now,” Pekka says, and Juuse rolls his eyes a little, but he’s smiling too. “So. A date? I’ll plan it.”

“Sure. I really gotta go.” Juuse kisses him on the cheek, quick. “I’ll see you tomorrow. With presents, I hope.”

He closes the door after him without waiting for Pekka’s response.

 

 

“Okay,” Juuse says, when he walks into the locker room and finds it’s been stuffed absolutely full with as many roses Pekka could buy from the grocery store at 8:30 AM. There’s a bear in there too. Pekka has no idea where it is, but it’s definitely in there.

“I’m pretty sure this is what you meant when you said presents,” Pekka says, putting his undershirt on. “If it wasn’t, then you’re gonna have to be a little more clear.”

“You know,” Juuse says, finally. He touches the soft, velvety petal of one of the roses, turns to look at Pekka. He’s beaming, and Pekka’s pretty sure his heart just grew three sizes. “This isn’t what I asked for, but I think I might be okay with it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](https://arzoensis.tumblr.com/), etc.


End file.
